


Who Here Among Us Still Believes in Choice

by Machinery_of_Night



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Captivity, Concubine Poe, Concubines, DarkPilot, Emperor Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sharing a Bed, concubine hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29578680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machinery_of_Night/pseuds/Machinery_of_Night
Summary: AU where Kylo becomes Emperor and Hux and Poe are his concubines.Hux starts to catch feelings for his fellow captive, and Poe tries to deal with the trauma of his capture and imprisonment.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 27
Kudos: 50





	1. She Takes the Corner, That's All She Takes

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that this is a dark fic with rape and enslavement and mental health problems.
> 
> This is based off of some of my favorite fics that went up years ago. I may add links to some I reference specifically were applicable, but all the ones I could find are orphaned :(

She Takes the Corner, That’s All She Takes

Poe had never enjoyed exercising. He did it to stay in shape for the Resistance, but more as a means to an end. He needed to run and jump and fight, he needed his heart to not give out on him in high-g maneuvers. Lately though, he found himself exercising near constantly. At first he told himself that he _needed_ to. Since he seemed permanently stuck on the Emperor’s flagship, he needed to compensate for being cooped up. Needed to stay sharp for when the day came that he could escape. It was dawning on him as he turned up the speed on the treadmill that maybe it was just a way to spend his empty hours. It was certainly more pleasant than being stuck in the room with that damn brooding redhead all day long. It didn’t hurt that exercise was one of the very few activities that the Emperor approved of for his concubines. Poe wrinkled his nose, when had he started thinking of Kylo as “the Emperor”?

He was thinking too much. He turned the intensity up even higher. Concentrating on keeping up and not falling down successfully distracted him from thoughts of Kylo. He needed to reach the endorphin high of an exhausting run, that seemed to be his new daily goal. The rhythmic pounding of his feet was like the beat of a song, familiar and soothing. Kylo’s small private gym was the only place he found any privacy, the hum of equipment soothed him. He could almost pretend he was actually alone, that the stormtroopers weren’t always there.

His feet began to feel like they were slipping. He looked down and to his horror saw red sand, his feet desperately losing traction. He was back on Tatooine. He could feel his wrists, bound in front of him and pulling him ceaselessly onward. Poe felt as if he was balancing along a razor’s edge of sand that slipped away into a chasm of nothing. He couldn’t keep up, he would fall.

He collapsed on his knees onto the treadmill, sweating profusely and hyperventilating. The beeping of the treadmill as it alerted him to the fact that the automatic safety shut-off had activated brought him back to reality. It really felt like he was back there. His heart just wouldn’t slow down. Sheepishly, he silenced the alarm and turned and sat on the treadmill, glancing quickly at the stormtroopers who guarded him. If they cared about his apparent loss of control, they showed no outward signs of it. Placing his hot forehead in his hands, Poe supposed that was better than any unwanted attention from them and tried to catch his breath.

“Yes sir, I understand,” the sudden digitized voice of one of the stormtroopers startled Poe, and he peeked up as a nod passed between the two. It was always a little frustrating to only hear half the conversation, the other half taking place inside their helmets. “Get up, the Emperor wants to see you.”

 _Oh no_. Poe was physically and mentally drained. Of course this is the exact moment Kylo would demand to see him. Sitting there, still breathing hard and covered in sweat, the last thing he wanted to do was see that man. He hadn’t even realized that Kylo was back on the ship; he’d been off on some mission for several days now. If he’d known, maybe he wouldn’t have pushed himself until he was so raw. As usual, Poe covered his vulnerability with sarcasm.

“Gee guys, I didn’t see that on the itinerary today,” Poe remained seated as the white-shelled troopers approached. “Tell him to try again when he has an appointment.” The troopers didn’t wait for him to finish his sentence before dragging him to his feet. His knees were sore as he began to walk between the mute guards, he must have fallen harder than he realized. 

“Hey, can I just take a sonic shower really quick?” Poe asked quietly. He hated to ask stormtroopers for favors, but he really needed to compose himself before he saw the man that considered himself Poe’s master. “It’ll just be a minute. He’ll never know. Please?”

“He said ‘now,’” stormtroopers always sounded a little angry, but this one had a bite to her voice that Poe knew meant he was already pushing his luck. If he hadn’t seen Finn take off his helmet with his own eyes, he’d have sworn that stormtroopers weren’t actually people. He sighed and let them lead him out into the unremarkable halls. Even the biggest New Republic cruiser he could recall being on was nowhere near the size of the Emperor’s flagship, and yet every corridor looked exactly the same. When he’d first been brought aboard, he’d felt so lost both physically and temporally in the bowels of this nearly windowless behemoth that he thought he’d never find himself again. 

He tried to take note of the twists and turns and posted designations when he was escorted around the ship. Poe was attempting to slowly fill in the map in his brain, but he knew that he’d never see even a small fraction of this machine of war. He sort of figured, if it came to it, he’d need an escort that knew what they were doing, like when Finn had saved him. His heart ached at the memory. In a pinch, even though he’d never be half the man Finn was, Hux knew the layout like the back of his own gloved hand and had just as much reason to flee as Poe. 

Even though he wasn’t certain of his exact location, Poe knew enough to tell that they weren’t taking him to his own quarters or to Kylo’s. This worried him. At least in those horrible rooms, he knew what to expect. Had some sense of familiarity. At least his room had Hux in it. At the very least, Hux was good at distracting the Emperor.

The white door they thrust him in front of had no markings and could have been any other door on the whole ship. As soon as it opened, Poe’s stomach dropped. This was Kylo’s office. He’d only been there once before. That was when he’d first been brought on board, when the pain and hunger and grief had made his mind fuzzy. And when Kylo had first raped him. Even though it had happened many times since, the memories he had of this room made Poe’s throat tight. He attempted to push them away.

He stood in the doorway, not daring to move and saw the top of Kylo’s head as he stared out the window opposite the door. Two chairs and a spartan desk were the only furnishings. The preternaturally angry trooper gave him one last push inside and let the door slide close. The instinct to turn around and bang at the door and demand to be let back out was overwhelming. He hated these power games the Emperor still insisted on playing. Kylo Ren didn’t believe in talking first. Poe’s annoyance finally outgrew his fear.

“You should really make an appointment, you know” he snapped. 

“Sit,” the Emperor said without turning his imposing, high-backed seat. The chair was the most august feature of the otherwise unassuming room. Well, that and the grand window that spanned two walls. 

“I was right in the middle of something important,” Poe continued, impressed by the nonchalance of his own voice despite his palpable fear.

“I said, ‘ _Sit_.’” Kylo said as he spun around, not a speck of amusement on his face. Poe considered getting the high and mighty Emperor to finally turn and look at him directly as a victory. Still, he complied before he soured Kylo’s mood any further and sat in the much less impressive guest chair. If he hadn’t been nearly choked with terror, Poe might have felt like he was back in the academy getting a dressing down from some higher-up. He found himself staring out the window. It had been so long since he’d been able to see the stars. His eyes searched for patterns, clusters, clues to what system he may be looking at. He missed the stars almost as much as he missed Finn. He’d always been comforted by them, and he’d much rather imagine himself free among the stars than thinking about his last time in this office.

Kylo produced a glass from his desk, placing it loudly in front of himself, he clearly hoped to regain Poe’s attention. It had worked, but Poe refused to take his eyes off the view. Next, a bottle of something slightly green came out and a healthy amount was poured. Poe was still attempting to ignore Kylo, but that changed when the glass was pushed directly in front of him. This wasn’t good. Poe looked at Kylo to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding. Kylo motioned for him to take the drink.

Nothing good ever came from a beverage offered by Kylo, particularly if Kylo wasn’t partaking himself. He’d been drugged many different ways since becoming his concubine. However, from experience, Poe knew better than to outright refuse either. There were less pleasant ways to consume drinks, it turned out. Poe decided to simply pick up the drink and hold it and hope that was enough. It smelled unpleasant, and Poe frowned at it. 

“I have some bad news to tell you,” Kylo finally said, “Drink.” The Emperor lifted his hand, palm up, in a gesture that beckoned Poe to drink deeply. The glass was suddenly shaking as Poe brought it to his lips. His eyes stayed on Kylo, and he took an experimental sip. The substance was bitter and unmistakably alcoholic, mixed with what else? Poe couldn’t be sure. The beckoning hand raised itself higher, commanding Poe to drink more. There was no point in putting off what Kylo wanted when he could so easily force him to do it anyway. Poe closed his eyes and downed the rest, trying not to taste it. 

“You start all your meetings this way?” Poe shuddered and placed the glass on the table, “No wonder you guys are going to lose this war.” It was empty gusto, Poe knew the chances for the Resistance even surviving were dwindling every day. Both he and Hux kept their ear to the ground for any news they could glean about the outside galaxy. Hux usually had better intel, after all, he knew what to listen for and seemed to have a few sources still willing to talk to him. They’d taken to sharing anything they could manage to overhear. They had to talk about something during their long hours shut in together. 

Kylo’s dead eyes stared at him. There was something off about him today that Poe couldn’t quite figure out. He wore his plainest robe and his helmet was nowhere to be seen. Poe’s fingers began to drum on his legs, his unease radiating off of him. Finally, Kylo seemed to come to some sort of internal decision, he pulled out a second glass and filled both it and Poe’s. He picked them up as he rose. Placing the glass directly in Poe’s hand, Kylo sat on the edge of the desk unbearably close now that they were on the same side of it. The strong odor of the green drink wafted to his nose. Kylo rolled the liquid around his glass before taking a drink.

“General Organa is dead.”

It was like a knife in his stomach. He nervously took a sip of his drink, just to have something to do with his hands. He had been expecting this, really. She was too much of a symbol for Kylo to leave alone. Everyday he braced himself to hear about the death of someone he loved. Despite their differences, she had been like a second mother to him. He let himself recall the warm embrace she had given him at his mom’s funeral. He gripped nervously at the glass in his hands before taking another swig. This was big news, the kind he was bound to hear amongst the scuttlebutt on the ship eventually. It was the sort of event propaganda was built on. Since he’d not even heard this as a rumor, it must have happened very recently. Poe realized Kylo was watching him expectantly. 

“Why?” Poe suddenly asked.

“Why?” Kylo scoffed. “Because she was a stubborn old woman who insisted on going down with her ship. She could have-” Kylo was cut off.

“No,” Poe snapped, “Why are you telling _me_ this?” Poe wasn’t sure if it was the liquid courage in the drink or his outrage at the news, he normally wouldn’t interrupt the Emperor so carelessly. 

“I know you two were close. I thought you’d want to know right away,” Kylo sounded slightly shocked by Poe’s forcefulness. This clearly wasn’t the response he was expecting. Something about this was off. Kylo’s demeanor changed; he finished his drink in a single gulp and slammed the empty glass onto the desk. “ _Drink_ ,” he hissed.

Poe, who hated feeling out of control while in the Emperor’s presence, narrowed his eyes but did as he was commanded. Having seen Kylo drink from the same bottle gave Poe a little relief. Some fights were worth picking and others weren’t. Poe was fed enough to survive, but not enough to ever satisfy. His mostly empty stomach was revolting at the introduction of nothing but alcohol, and his head started to spin slightly. 

“You know, my parents wandered the galaxy picking up strays. There must be half a dozen adopted “children” between the two of them,” Kylo said bitterly. “They were so eager to help shape the youth of the galaxy. If I recall, you were among my mother’s favorites?” 

Poe could sense the trap here, he leaned forward to put his now empty glass on the desk, avoiding eye contact as he did so. Before he could lean back, Kylo had seized his chin, made Poe look him in the eye. 

“Was she a good mother to you?” Kylo asked angrily as he squeezed Poe’s face with his gloved hand. Poe was at a loss for words, a situation he rarely found himself in before becoming a concubine. He felt as if he wouldn’t be released until he answered. He desperately wanted to diffuse the situation. Wanted to say whatever would calm Kylo down. 

“She was my general, never my mother,” Poe managed from between Kylo’s fingers. Kylo laughed and pushed Poe’s head away. 

“You’d never know that either of them had an actual son. They got rid of me as soon as they could. They thought I was impure,” Kylo’s rage was growing. The situation was getting more dangerous than Poe could handle. _Not here, not in this room_.

It took Poe longer than it should have to realize he was crying. He couldn’t pinpoint why. It could be any number of reasons, really. He placed his head in his hands and sobbed. When he’d first been brought on board, he’d cried more often than he’d be willing to admit. And then he eventually seemed to run out of tears. He’d grown callouses over where his feelings should be. Otherwise he’d never have survived. Now it seemed to pour out of him. He refused to think about what had happened to him in this room.

A hand on his shoulder startled him, and he yelped. The hand attempted to caress him gently. Kylo had not really touched him kindly in all his time aboard this ship. He shook from fear and from the effort of bawling. It was suddenly too hot in the small office. Poe wanted to be comforted by someone who wasn’t the source of his terror. Usually, his heart yearned for Finn, but for some reason, in this instant, Poe wished Hux was there with him.

“She gave up on you too,” Kylo sounded more grounded now; he continued to rub Poe’s shoulder softly. “She could have saved you, but she didn’t.” 

Through his drunken, grief-addled haze, Poe realized that this is what Kylo had wanted all along. The all-mighty Emperor couldn’t cry about losing his mother. He was trying to grieve vicariously through Poe. Had wanted to watch him cry and agonize about General Organa. It pained Poe to be giving Kylo exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t stop himself. Wasn’t this always how it went? Poe fought with everything he had and Kylo won anyway?

Before he could comprehend what was happening, Kylo was on his knees in front of him. He had Poe’s face in his gloved hands again and he leaned in and kissed him. This had happened so many times before. It always played out the same. Poe could feel that this kiss was more desperate, more forceful than it was normally. There was a tongue in his mouth and hands in his hair, and Poe couldn’t breath. _Not again, not here_.

Kylo lifted Poe from his chair, and they both stood. Ordinarily, Poe might have put up some minimal opposition, but he couldn’t manage. The hands seemed to be all over him, he knew them and the directions they silently gave him well. It wasn’t until they turned him around and attempted to push him on the desk that Poe struggled. His arms locked, he would not be pushed onto his stomach.

“No, no, no,” Poe choked out, “not on my stomach!” Even Poe hadn’t understood the true trauma that had occurred to him in this office. It had suddenly become intensely important that Kylo didn’t fuck him face down on this desk. His sore knees ached, and his stomach, which hadn’t taken any damage recently, suddenly felt as though it was on fire. His body screamed at him. “Please, please, let me turn around,” he hated the desperation in his voice. He hated begging Kylo for anything. “Please, Master, I’ll do whatever you want.”

The busy, insistent hands on his body, slowed. Clearly, he was mulling his next step. Kylo’s front was pressed against Poe’s back. His arms were wrapped possessively around him, his hands pulling at his shirt, grabbing at his face. Kylo leaned down and whispered in his ear.

“Whatever I want?” Poe couldn’t tell if it was a question for him or one that Kylo was asking himself. He didn’t get a chance to answer as he was turned around, Kylo’s mouth on his once again. The Emperor swept the glasses off the desk and they clattered to the floor. Poe found himself laid against the plain, empty surface. _This is better,_ he needed to believe, _this is better._

“Strip,” Kylo commanded. Poe obeyed. He untied the shorts he’d worn to work out and did his best to pull them over his hips while remaining on the desk. Kylo helped pull them over his shoes and impatiently grabbed at Poe’s tank top. Once naked, Poe leaned back on the desk and looked out the window again. “Lift your legs,” barked Kylo.

Poe wasn’t there anymore. He was lost among the stars. He was remembering being little in his mother’s freighter. She would tell the story of Poe being a cranky toddler unwilling to settle down. She would say that the only way to get Poe to sleep was to let him watch the jump to hyperspace. He could almost see the steps up to his mother’s cockpit. He would scramble into a seat that was too big for him and the stars would turn to lines and rush past. It made him feel calm and warm. Eventually, after he had drifted off, her strong arms would scoop him up and carry him back down the stairs as his head rested against her shoulder. Everything was alright.

The room he shared with Hux was small, but it certainly wasn’t the worst place Poe had ever lived. Hell, he’d done some long hauls in just his X-wing with only BB-8 to keep him company, at least here he could stand up and stretch his legs. He’d still much rather hear BB-8’s happy chirping than the near constant muttering of the former general. Poe was sure Hux didn’t realize he was doing it, but Hux was almost always talking to himself. At first, it had been enough to make Poe want to strangle him, but now he found it almost comforting. A reminder that he wasn’t alone in his misery on a ship full of terrorists in masks. 

Returning to his quarters had been a blur. The last thing he remembered had been Kylo on top of him, kissing his neck, penetrating him while he laid across a desk. Even that felt unreal, like it was a memory of a memory. Poe must have stood there looking confused a little too long. Hux, who had been laying in the bed they were compelled to share reading, looked up and said something Poe didn’t quite catch. The crushing revelation that Leia was dead hit him again out of nowhere. His breath began to hitch and he thought he might cry again. He hated crying in front of Hux.

“He’s back on board, isn’t he?” Hux sat up. Poe looked at him, but didn’t answer, afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d sob. The former general was growing impatient for an answer. Poe swayed slightly. “Are you... drunk?” Hux asked him. That was right. Poe had forgotten about how heavily he’d been compelled to drink. That explained some of what he was experiencing. He desperately wanted to be in the bed.

Poe took an experimental step towards his goal and stumbled to the side, catching himself against the wall. Why did it feel as if the ship was taking a bombardment? Hux was suddenly next to him, stabilizing him. It was odd, but he was sort of glad to see Hux. 

“You smell awful,” Hux wrinkled his nose as he helped him balance. Maybe he wasn’t glad to see Hux. Of course he smelled awful, no one would let him use the sonic shower today. For a second, Poe thought about asking Hux to take him to the ‘fresher, but he found that he’d already been deposited on the bed. He felt the mattress depress as Hux sat next to him. They stayed there for what seemed like forever in silence, but time was moving strangely. Time always moved strangely in space. There was no clockwork gravity to keep track of it. Poe wasn’t sure if it was day or night. He was sort of hoping Hux would go back to reading and ignore him like he usually did so he could lay down and cry without an audience, but he seemed determined to stay there and annoy him.

“She’s dead. General Organa is dead,” it came out before Poe realized he was speaking aloud. He couldn’t stop the tears now. Why had he said it? Hux was the last person who would comfort him about Leia’s death. He’d celebrate it. To his surprise, a hand tentatively stroked his back. Poe looked over with a quizzical look, maybe he was missing something in his stupor. Hux didn’t look sad exactly, but his mouth frowned and his eyes searched Poe’s face. The hand felt good, soothing, so unlike Kylo’s. He allowed himself to lean against Hux’s broad shoulder and sob. He was so exhausted. 

Slowly, Hux wrapped his arms around Poe. After his crying quieted a bit, Hux pulled him gently down onto the bed. His large and gentle hands arranged Poe carefully on his usual side of the mattress, and then Hux folded himself around Poe protectively. Despite having slept in the same bed for months, despite the fact that they preformed sexual acts together at the behest of the Emperor, this was the first time they had touched and cuddled so intimately. Poe fell asleep almost instantly.


	2. The Open Palm of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Emperor pays a visit to his concubines' quarters and Hux continues to make emotional impulsive decisions. Important eye contact happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to mind the tags and be mindful that this chapter does contain more violence than the first one.

Since the night General Organa died, the two concubines had taken to sleeping intertwined. The relief of a warm body, a gentle touch with no expectations, had been too good for either of the concubines to give up. It was still awkward, but it was far better than the tossing and turning and avoiding each other they used to attempt in the small bed. In the intervening week, the nightly détentes had done very little to ease the tension of the days. They still spent their waking hours (when one or the other wasn’t called away to be terrorized by the Emperor) mostly silent, sniping at each other about their opposing beliefs on occasion. Dameron was so stubborn. 

Hux still wasn’t completely sure why he’d started it. Dameron had come in that night and looked so pathetic, so out of it. Usually, no matter what the Emperor had done to him, Dameron still insisted on walking around arrogantly like he owned the whole ship. At first, Hux had found this infuriating, but as the Emperor tried his hardest to grind them both down, it almost seemed commendable. But that night, as the guards left him there, so unsteady on his feet, Dameron had looked utterly defeated. He was sweaty and drunk, his face flush and streaked with tears. Hux didn’t need much imagination to figure out what Kylo had done to him. 

Ordinarily, Hux would have applauded the death of any Resistance member, especially one as high-ranking and irksome as Organa, but since his fall from power, those feelings were becoming a great deal more complicated. Were the enemies of his enemy truly his friends? Hux recalled the exact moment he had started seeing Dameron as less of a threat and more of an ally. 

After a particularly rough and humiliating encounter with Kylo, he’d been left in their bed, his hands cuffed behind his back, and with a butt plug left inside him. He’d been so uncomfortable and angry. Knowing that this continuing humiliation was part of Kylo’s plan made it that much worse. Hux had been at his breaking point. And yet, Dameron hadn’t met him with hatred, or even with indifference, but with calm, sober empathy. Removing the plug was certainly compassion, but what had impressed Hux was that he had done it without comment. No sarcasm, no biting rejoinders. 

He’d given Hux some small comfort in a cold galaxy where absolutely no one else had. That was the night that Hux realized that he had a better chance of surviving this if he had someone on his side. Anyone would do, even Dameron. Of course, he had yet to truly express this out loud to the man himself. Hux wanted to avoid the smug smile and pithy response he knew Dameron would give him. What was harder to pinpoint was the moment when he started to think of Dameron as less of an ally of convenience, and more of an actual friend. Even just thinking the word made Hux feel embarrassed. Maybe that’s what it had been that night, instead of looking at the sobbing Dameron and seeing a foe suffering a loss, he looked at Dameron and saw a friend suffering a loss. Hux put an abrupt end to this train of thought.

They weren’t allowed access to any of the ship’s systems, save the lights, otherwise Hux would have an early alarm set, as he was used to. Hux’s whole life had been regimented and scheduled precisely, even since boyhood. Without that order, he felt utterly lost. This particular morning though, he woke up and for once did not really care what time it was. Dameron’s head laid on his shoulder, his arm draped across Hux’s chest as he gently snored. Knowing that as soon as they were both really awake, they would stop touching each other meant that Hux was not in a hurry to rouse him. In his life before, Hux had been too busy for lovers, too busy to linger in bed with someone. The warmth and peace of it was intoxicating.

A strange thought entered Hux’s head. He stared down at Poe’s face and observed how empirically beautiful he was. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed before, but previously, the man’s attractiveness had just fueled Hux’s hatred of him. Now, at peace, Dameron looked different to Hux. Tentatively, he leaned forward and let his lips rest on the top of Dameron's head. He smelled so good. Is this what it felt like to care for a person rather than an idea?

Hux didn’t have long to ruminate because the door slid open and the lights flashed on. It wasn’t unusual for the Emperor to enter their quarters unannounced, but he hadn’t been there since the boundaries between the concubines had changed, which had altered the feeling of intimacy in the small room. Hux practically jumped away from Dameron.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Kylo asked smugly. Dameron began to stir and Hux attempted to add distance between the Resistance pilot and himself. “I knew if I locked you two in with each other, you’d learn to be  _ good  _ friends.” He sounded so self-satisfied that it made Hux’s blood boil. He pulled his legs out from under the covers and placed them on the floor, refusing to look directly at Kylo or Dameron. Still groggy, Dameron sat up; Hux couldn’t see his face, but he imagined it looked confused, maybe even hurt by how quickly Hux had abandoned him. 

“No, no, don’t get up on my account,” Kylo stepped into the room and the door closed behind him. “Should I be jealous? You two get to spend all your time together, pleasuring each other, while I work hard keeping the empire together.” Hux seethed, but kept his eyes on the floor between his feet. If he had come to take one of them away, or to rape one or both of them, he should do it and leave. This drawn out taunting was infuriating. He felt Dameron shift uncomfortably. 

“What do you want?” Dameron’s voice was still thick with drowsiness, more confused than angry. The bed shook briefly as Kylo sat at the end. Hux had always been prone to blushing, in part because of his pale complexion, but also because of how easily he flustered. He could feel the uncomfortable warmth rise from his chest and neck to his cheeks. What made it worse was that he knew the Emperor would notice and relish in it. He’d intruded in their bed plenty of times before, but it suddenly felt like a violation to have him perched there.

“Well, I was hoping for a nice visit with you in particular, but maybe the general here would object to that?” Kylo asked mockingly, knowing the use of his former title struck at Hux’s heart. 

Without turning to look, Hux could feel the eyes on him. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw the Emperor’s hand grabbing possessively at Dameron’s legs through the blanket. He returned his gaze to the cold floor, this shouldn’t bother him as much as it did. 

“I guess he doesn’t care after all,” the affected shock in the Emperor’s voice grated against Hux painfully. “Oh well,” Hux heard the Emperor pat Dameron’s leg, “come along with me to my quarters, and we’ll let Armitage have some alone time.”

Dameron sighed loudly. It conveyed the resignation of someone about to do something they gravely did not want to. Hux couldn’t help but turn and watch as he groggily stood, squinting and rubbing his eyes. Being left by himself, with the other concubine taking the full brunt of Kylo’s attention, was typically everything Hux could ask for, but something about it made him deeply uncomfortable. Dameron’s eyes flickered to his for just a second before turning his attention to Kylo; Hux couldn’t read his wordless expression. He noticed he’d been digging his fingers into the sheets and that his fingers ached.

“This way, we can have some privacy,” Kylo rose and stepped over to Dameron. “You know,” he snaked his arms around the much shorter man, “I think Hux is very fond of you.” Dameron stayed quiet, but placed his palms on Kylo’s chest and pushed in an attempt to keep the Emperor from enveloping him entirely. “Who can blame him? Such a sweet little Resistance fighter.” Kylo pushed past Dameron’s defenses and kissed him. He didn’t fight the Emperor, but his body language made his unease clear. Kylo moaned into the other man’s mouth before he pulled away and looked directly in Hux’s eyes, “You wouldn’t mind if I whipped him, would you? After all, he recently swore that he’d do anything I wanted.” At that, Dameron blanched.

Since being promoted to general in the First Order, Hux had been a ball of barely contained anxiety and rage. Everybody and everything had seemed like an obstacle to his goals, and he had no patience for any of it. He could still feel the pressure of it all pressing down on him. He grit his teeth. With more distance, with the First Order essentially destroyed, Hux could see that anxiety and rage had been there for far longer. It didn’t really matter, what had come before. What mattered now was that the conduit for all of his current vexation was standing there and actively antagonizing him.

“What you do with that filthy mongrel is none of my business,” Hux was shouting. He found that he was standing and was unsure of when exactly he’d done it. ”Look at him!” Hux gestured towards a wide-eyed Dameron. “He’s pathetic, he lets you do whatever you want without a fight,” it spilled out of him, “I thought you picked him because you liked a challenge. These Resistance fighters are all the same, they just fall apart. I could never be  _ fond _ of such a feeble man.”

The most terrible sound in the world to Hux was Kylo’s laugh. It rang out through the small room. “You speak as if I haven’t been bending you over any time I want,” Kylo smirked, his hands still all over Dameron. Hux pulled his lip into a snarl, but then his eyes darted to Dameron. His chin was down and he wouldn’t meet Hux’s gaze.

“At least I don’t enjoy it like that little slut of yours does,” Hux spat. For a second, he wasn’t quite certain why he was doing this. He didn’t honestly feel this way about Dameron anymore, did he? Was it that he was ashamed of his attraction to a Resistance member? Jealous that Kylo took from Dameron what he wanted? Finally, it dawned on Hux that he was attempting whatever he could to get Kylo’s hands off of Dameron. The only strategy he could think to deploy was to bring Kylo’s attention fully to himself.

“What has gotten into the general today?” Kylo asked Dameron, who just continued looking down. He was blank, he’d stopped reacting. His strategy wasn’t working, Kylo continued to run his hands all over the pilot. “No matter, if Hux wants to play, he can wait his turn. Or does he simply want to watch?” as he said this, Kylo dipped a hand into the waistband of Dameron’s boxers.

The last thing Hux wanted was to sit watch Kylo attempt to break his friend again. He’d seen it too many times before. Hux blushed more intensely, this time reaching all the way to his ears. That was it then, he really thought of Dameron as his friend now. Kylo used his other hand to thread his fingers through Dameron’s dark hair and kissed him again. Hux needed to do something.

“What would your mother say, Ben? Hmmm, if she could see you here keeping people as sex slaves?!” 

There was a dull thud as Kylo pushed Dameron to the floor. Hux wanted to see if the pilot was ok, but he couldn’t take his eyes from the large figure that was now headed straight for him. His gambit had worked, but Hux had neglected to consider the cost. A more normal being may have attempted to run, but Hux had long learned to suppress that instinct. Beside, where was there to go?

The hand was still gloved, it stung as it struck him, and Hux’s face flew to the right. If he were thinking clearly, if he weren’t so angry, Hux may have started mitigating the situation. Instead, he straightened his head, stood tall and looked directly into the Emperor’s eyes. He didn’t need to say anything, he’d made his point.

This time, the hand did not merely hit him; this time, it wrenched at his overgrown hair and pulled him to the bed. When Kylo and Hux were in their power struggle in the First Order, it had always struck Hux as unfair that Kylo had the aid of an invisible force on his side. It felt like the knight had been handed power without having to earn it. His juvenile behavior certainly did nothing to dissuade Hux of his theory that Kylo had never worked hard for anything in his life. His hatred of the Force had only grown since, it seemed like it only existed to make him miserable. 

Kylo toyed with him for a while, holding off on the use of his powers, grappling on strength alone. Despite his best efforts, Hux found himself flipped onto his front and pinned. He bucked and thrashed, snarling like an animal. The familiar feeling of his wrists being held in place made him feel sick. The former general was trapped on his stomach, and he could feel the body heat still trapped in the bed on his bare chest. It reminded him of how secure he had felt earlier, and he felt like a fool.

Demoralized and exhausted, Hux stopped struggling and turned his head to the side of the bed Kylo had left Dameron. Still sitting there on the ground he looked very little. Despite his small stature, Dameron was crouched like an animal ready to strike. He didn’t look at Hux, but kept his eyes trained on whatever was right above him.

Kylo grabbed his boxers and pulled, causing Hux to begin struggling and kicking wildly again. He may not have tried to run, but Hux still had the instinct to fight. Kylo didn’t bother to bring the undergarment lower than Hux’s knees, which restricted the movement of his legs. Instead, the Emperor stood, and Hux could hear him take off his gloves. Hux turned back to face Kylo, who placed his gloves on the small bedside table, before using his thumbprint to open the drawer. He appraised the contents of the drawer for far longer than he probably needed to and at last, took out a small leather whip. It had a dozen or so thin strips of leather and reminded Hux of the ones they used for discipline on First Order ships.

Without a word, Kylo began to strike Hux. He gasped aloud before wincing, determined to avoid making more sounds for Kylo to revel in. The Emperor was relentless, his anger lashing out at Hux’s flesh. Kylo left no space on his back, ass, and thighs untouched. The former general watched the rage play across Kylo’s face, as his arm came down again and again, it was spectacular to behold. Under different circumstances, Hux may have been impressed. From nowhere, Hux heard a small squeak and his thoughts all turned to Dameron. He wanted so badly to turn and see him, to see his face and make sure he was ok. What he didn’t want was to bring any attention back on him. 

As Kylo prepared to strike again, Hux wasn't sure he could take it much longer. His legs kicked out in futility, but there was nowhere to go while his arms were held in place. A memory Hux didn’t want flooded his mind. The Academy was small, nothing like it had been in the glory days of the Empire. Hux had spent most of his life there. A retired Moff acted as headmaster. He believed heavily in corporal punishment, and he had personal history with Hux’s father, the Commandant. 

During a formal inspection from his father, the Moff had made certain to bring charges against Hux that warranted a public flogging. The details were lost to time, He couldn’t quite recall what the charges had been, just that he didn’t feel like they had been warranted. The Commandant had stood there stone-faced. Hux knew that his father didn’t like him very much, he’d made it abundantly clear how little he thought of his bastard son. But while he was being flogged, his heart had dared to hope that he would look over and see some sign that his father cared what happened to him. The memory of that moment and the difficult conversation that occurred later that night were too much, Hux turned his head into the sheets. 

The whipping continued, and Hux couldn’t keep his cries in anymore. The next strike caused him to scream out and he attempted to muffle it in the bed. He hated this, he hated feeling out of control. In desperation, he turned to find Dameron. The pilot had managed to stay quiet since his earlier whimper; he was still coiled on the ground, a look of absolute horror on his face. Hux allowed himself to believe that Dameron cared what happened to him. There was blood now, he was certain, but he felt oddly numb. He stared at Dameron’s face as it reacted in time to the blows, flinching at the hits, but not looking away. How unlike the stony faces at the Academy. 

Hux was suddenly very tired, he wanted to close his eyes and not be there anymore. As his eyelids began to droop, Dameron finally noticed Hux’s gaze. It was the first time he’d made eye contact since Hux had said those horrible things about him. He almost couldn’t comprehend what was going on when the other concubine scooted towards the bed and slowly reached out his hand and placed it on his immobilized arm. His emotions overtook him again and Hux reburied his face in the sheets. How could this misguided, Resistance scum have so much humanity left in him? Hux wanted to hate Dameron’s bleeding heart, he wanted to hate him as much as he used to hate him, he wanted to hate him more than he hated Kylo. 

Kylo was slowing down, either he’d exhausted himself or grown bored. The room’s only sounds were the heavy breathing of Kylo and Hux, nearly in unison.

“Look at me,” Hux wasn’t sure which concubine Kylo was talking to, “ _ Look at me _ !” Someone grabbed the back of his head and jerked his face to the side. The room seemed darker than it ought to be. He felt Dameron pull his hand back like Hux’s flesh had burned him. “Come closer,” Kylo was either getting quieter or Hux was close to passing out. The hand on his head pulled relentlessly and Hux realized his arms weren’t held in place any longer. He attempted to move in the direction his head was being taken. Slowly, painfully, he inched his way to the side of the mattress. 

By the time Kylo pulled down his pants, he was already erect. Hux opened his mouth without having to be asked; he was done fighting. The strange angle made the blowjob uneven and difficult for both of them, Kylo was just as likely to hit cheek or teeth as he was to hit the back of his throat. One push found its way deep inside, and Kylo took the opportunity to stay there. The lack of oxygen usually would have made Hux panic, but he was so tired. He shuddered a bit and attempted to move his head away as he gagged.

“Stop!” it had been Dameron who had yelled it. “He can’t breath!” His voice trembled. 

In the months they have been abused in tandem, neither man had ever stood up for the other. The Emperor was clearly dumbfounded by the outburst. He pulled back and Hux could breathe again. As he tried to get in as much air as he could, Hux imagined the looks passing between the two other men. He wanted to tell Dameron to stop being an idiot.

“Lay on your stomach,” Kylo spoke slowly. Dameron must not have moved fast enough for Kylo’s liking, the large man sprang over the bed, grabbing at him. He took no heed of Hux and his shredded back as he scrambled to his target. The struggle shook the bed.

Dameron grunted and yelped. He must have been fighting back. It suddenly became immensely important for Hux to see what was happening to his friend. Using the last of his strength, he shifted as far onto his side as his wounds would tolerate, hissing as he did so. The Emperor was attempting to pin Dameron to the bed, but the pilot had his knees at Kylo’s stomach. Dameron, who had that damn determined look of his on his face, seemed dwarfed by the sheer size of the Emperor. For his part, Kylo looked exhilarated, like he may start laughing at any moment. 

The air nearly crackled as Kylo used the Force to slam Dameron flat on the bed.

“Do I need to keep whipping him?” Kylo asked between clenched teeth. The determination melted off of his face. Dameron’s eyes glanced at Hux for just a moment. Slowly, the tension left Dameron’s muscles, and Hux could swear he saw the exact moment that Kylo let go of his Force hold. 

The Emperor had won. Hux let himself collapse. Kylo didn’t even need his strange powers to best his concubines any longer, they were done struggling. The former general hadn’t felt so defeated since the Emperor had first ascended and stripped him of everything he held dear. 

“Lay on your stomach,” Kylo sounded pleased. “This is not what I had in mind for today, but who am I to say’ no when both my little playmates want attention at the same time,” he caressed Dameron’s face as he stood to let the smaller man turn over. “Head down, ass up.”

Dameron obeyed, assuming the position as far from Hux as he could manage. The way they were arranged in the bed was a twisted reflection of how they slept in it, side by side, heads on their regular pillows. Hux’s heart suddenly acutely needed to see Poe’s eyes again. His hand groped for Dameron’s. Once he found it he gripped it tightly with no intentions of ever letting it go. Dameron turned to him, and the weariness in his eyes broke Hux’s heart. Kylo was back rummaging in the bedside drawer, and Hux feared that he planned to whip Dameron too.

Kylo returned to bed behind the Resistance pilot. Hux held his breath, Dameron didn’t take his eyes from Hux’s face as Kylo pulled down his underwear. The sound of wet fingers entering him filled the room. Hux wanted to tell him it would all be alright. As the Emperor stretched him open, Dameron’s face finally crumpled and he looked away. When Dameron squeezed his hand, he could tell Kylo was pushing his way inside him. The pilot whimpered as the thrusting started. Over the pleasured rasps of the Emperor, Hux thought he heard Dameron crying. Kylo’s pace was rough, taking no time to build speed. Hux hated the sounds their skin meeting made. The rhythm became erratic and Kylo moaned loudly. The man beside him shuddered as the Emperor came in him. 

Hux failed him. His best effort had still gotten Dameron raped, and at the cost of his entire back. After only a second catching his breath, he pulled out, which made Dameron shiver. Kylo took his time collecting himself. Hux did his best to track him without sitting up. He visited the fresher, found his pants, and collected the various things that he wanted to lock back in the drawer. The Emperor stopped by Hux’s side of the bed and bent down.

“You were right, he is a slut. And he loves my cock inside of him,” Kylo whispered as he dragged his fingers down the open wounds on Hux’s back. Hux found the strength to scream.

“Don’t ever ask me about General Organa, ever again,” the Emperor's voice wasn’t angry. He walked to the door and it opened for him. Before it hissed closed, Hux heard Kylo start to address the guards, “Bring the medical droid.” 

And then they were alone again. Hux realized he was still holding Poe’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I reference an incident here that comes directly from a fic called Disastrous Relations -https://archiveofourown.org/works/12773151 that was part of the inspiration for this work 
> 
> Whenever I start to worry too much about being canon-compliant, I remember that I've declared this an AU, and then I tell myself a space wizard did it.


	3. Days Falling Backwards into Velvet Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Poe has too much time to think and can't avoid Tatooine.

When the brusque medical droid came, Poe felt almost ashamed of how little physical damage he’d taken in comparison to Hux, who had lost consciousness almost immediately after Kylo left. In fact, Poe was in better shape than he would usually be after a visit from Kylo Ren. The Emperor had been so angry, so relentless, Poe was sure that he meant to kill Hux. Kylo had his horrible cock pushed into the general’s mouth for so long, he just couldn’t sit there and watch someone asphyxiate. He paced around the room as the droid, who clearly wasn’t programmed with a great bedside manner, tended to Hux’s back. It had been shredded to ribbons. The minced flesh had reminded him of his own body after Tatooine and his thoughts couldn’t stay away from that horrible planet. After some debriding and a liberal application of bacta, the droid took her leave. Hux slept. 

Poe watched his face, the general was so motionless that part of him wanted to check to see if he was still breathing, but the droid had ensured him that the damage was all superficial. She had sedated him only because he was labelled as “uncooperative” in his file, so his unnatural sleep would last a while longer. After all that, he looked so peaceful. Last night, when the former general slept nestled against him in bed, Poe had wondered if Hux spent even a fraction of the time he had calculating how many children had died in the destruction of the Hosnian Prime system. How could Poe feel sorry for such an awful man?

Hux remained an enigma to Poe despite the fact that he spent almost all of his time with the man. What had the general been thinking when he openly antagonized Kylo like that? One minute he was decrying Poe and everything he stood for, and the next he was comforting him as he was raped. Usually, he wouldn’t care what a First Order dog thought of him, but part of what Hux said had struck a nerve. What game was he playing?

Many times since being captured, Poe had attempted to reach out with his mind and find his loved ones. He sat on the floor and placed his back on the cold wall, he crossed his legs in an imitation of the Force users he’d seen meditating. He concentrated as hard as he could on those he wanted to feel. He thought of Finn’s warm smile.  _ Find me _ . Leia had told him of conversations she’d had with the dead, so he thought about her too.  _ Please find me _ . When he felt nothing in return, he leaned back and hit his head against the wall a few times. Rey, Leia and Finn made it look so easy, but Poe, no matter how hard he tried, only ever felt the emptiness of space and existence when he reached out. It didn’t seem fair. Truly alone now, without the bitter mumbling of the former general to distract him, Poe’s mind kept taking him back to Tatooine no matter how hard he fought against it. 

It had been Rose’s idea, and really it was the only one that any of them had. Leia had been against it, she told them that Tatooine was “the asshole of the outer rim” and that only “idiots and the idiots who wanted to find them” went there. But Luke was still missing and now Rey along with him. Maybe there was a clue left behind, or even a person with information. After all, it was the last place Leia hadn’t looked yet. They were getting desperate. 

Getting there turned out to be the easy part, but what they didn’t realize was that they landed right before storm season hit. Sandstorms charged with electricity, unlike anything Poe had ever experienced, would blow through and disrupt every kind of travel and communication. They were hunting down a lead that took them to what was formerly called Jabba’s Palace. He and Rose had landed a long ways off, and traveled as subtly as they could manage. Poe had heard of this place, he recalled raucous retellings with General (then Senator) Organa, slightly drunk at dinner parties. They’d exalted her as “Hutt Slayer,” but even as a boy, Poe had often taken note of the faraway look in her eye after she’d pleased the crowd with her tale of enslavement and escape. 

Poe had been surprised at how resilient Rose was, he hadn’t known her before Finn had vouched for her. Finn had a way with people and Poe trusted his instincts completely. Still, could a maintenance worker handle herself in a tight spot? The first time bandits had tried to shake them down for what few belongings they had with them answered that question. She’d laid three of them out while Poe was working on one of his own. No wonder Finn liked her. It took longer than they’d hoped to navigate this Podunk world with the storms keeping them hunkered down for hours at a time. At night when they camped, if the sky was clear, Poe would watch the night sky. The stars were always there for him.

It had been a trap. Jabba’s Palace was under new management, and they’d walked right in. Poe had no way of knowing it at the time, but Kylo had been looking for him relentlessly, had known that this hellhole might be one he’d be checking. Poe had swaggered in front of the dais and throne with every eye on him, all confidence. He had often relied on his charm to get by.

“I was told that you might know something about an old family that used to live nearby,” Poe addressed the masked figure perched on the throne. “What can you tell me about the Skywalkers?”

It was like he’d said the secret password, they’d descended on them in an instant. A whole squad of stormtroopers, armor yellowed by the elements, emerged from every nook and cranny. Rose had rolled under a table almost instantly. It was here that Poe’s memory started to get unreliable. The firefight had been so fast, and they’d been so outnumbered. Looking back, he was certain they’d used a stun blaster on him. It only made sense in the context that Kylo had already ascended to his Emperorship and had demanded Poe be taken alive. But Poe was unaware of those machinations, so when he’d been hit, he’d been certain he’d been shot by a blaster. He could hear Rose screaming, was it because she had been hit or was it because she had seen him hit? Poe couldn’t tell.

When he came to, he was on his stomach draped over the back of a speeder bike driven by one of the stormtroopers. The sand was in his eyes and a storm roiled around them. The thunder was so loud he could hear it over the hum of the bike. Poe was grateful that his hands had been cuffed in front of him, he protected his face with his arms and attempted to look around. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he counted four speeder bikes, including the one he was on, each with a single trooper on it. It had seemed like so many more of them earlier. Had Rose managed to take some of them down? Still, if he could reach a blaster, he didn’t have great odds. What worried him most was that Rose was nowhere to be seen. 

They’d been wandering for what felt like hours to Poe, he was slowly realizing that he was on the speeder bike of the squadron leader. He sported the tale-tell orange pauldron and barked orders nearly non-stop. The comms in their helmets didn’t seem to be functioning in the storm, so they stayed in a tight formation and shouted. 

Poe was also realizing that the squad leader had no idea what he was doing. Why were they even attempting to travel during a storm? Eventually, the storm let up and only then did they stop to make camp. The troopers circled their speeder bikes and built a fire in the center to push away the cold desert night. We’re these troopers really so ill-equipped? Squad leader had detached one of Poe’s cuffs and locked him to the grounded bike. 

Poe slumped to the ground, back against the bike, right arm awkwardly suspended in the air next to him. He brought his knees to his chest protectively. He needed to bide his time. Needed to figure out a plan. He’d been in worse spots. He could get out of this. Poe stayed quiet, but listened intently to the chatter of the stormtroopers. It was growing more obvious that they were lost and that the squad was unhappy with the leadership. When squabbling broke out, Poe tried to seize an opportunity.

“You’re right, this guy doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about,” everyone looked at him. “What you need to do is watch the stars,” Poe pointed up awkwardly with his chained hand. “In this endless, shifting waste, without comms, it’s the only way to be sure which way you’re heading.” The troopers were silent, the dead eyes of their helmets bore into him. Poe pushed on, undeterred, “I’ll take you to the nearest town,  _ if _ you’ll let me go once we get there.”

Squad Leader stood from his position by the fire. The backhand of the trooper’s armored hand sent Poe flying towards the sand until he was caught by his cuffed hand. Then the hand grabbed at his shirt and pulled him to his feet. Maybe it was because of Finn. Maybe he’d thought that stormtroopers could be reasoned with because Finn had made Poe think of them as people for the first time. Poe’s face was pulled to the Squad Leader’s helmet.

“Who gave you permission to speak?” 

“I guess, I gave myself permission,” Poe did his best to shrug with his one arm being strained towards the bike. He was trying to sound unconcerned. “Look, even I can tell we’re in a jam here. If you guys had comms you’d have called for air support by now, am I right?” A barely perceptible look passed through the helmeted crowd. Squad Leader pushed him away, and Poe almost fell over the speeder bike.

“Don’t listen to this piece of trash. He’s the reason we were stationed on this useless rock in the first place.”

“If you don’t have comms, then they don’t know you’ve found me yet. I’ll lead us back to Mos Eisley, and I’ll just disappear. No one has to know,” Poe felt like this was a perfectly reasonable proposition, but evidently Squad Leader did not. The first blow was to Poe’s stomach, and it sent him back down to the sand. The second was a knee to his face. Poe saw stars. Collapsing as far as he could to the ground before his chained arm stopped him, Poe could only hang there and watch as blood dripped from his face to the ground.

“What do you think you’re doing? The Emperor was clear he wanted this guy unharmed,” some other trooper protested. For a second, Poe’s rattled mind thought he meant Emperor Palpatine, who had featured as the boogeyman in many of Poe’s bedtime stories; he hadn’t yet learned of Kylo's coup.

“Will you relax? I’m not doing anything that a little bacta can’t fix,” Squad Leader took to one knee in front of Poe. “No one has to know, right?” He took Poe’s swelling face in his hand and tilted his chin up to get a better look at the damage.

The true danger of the situation was dawning on Poe. He was in the middle of a storm-wracked desert with a poorly outfitted, nearly feral stormtrooper squadron. If he couldn’t talk his way out, he’d have to find another way. If he could get the ignition key for the speeder bike, he could simply drive away and worry about the handcuffs later. Squad Leader dropped Poe’s chin, stood and turned to address his squadron. 

Poe didn’t bother lifting his head, he stared down as he tried to collect his thoughts well enough to form a plan, entranced by the trickle of blood that fell from his face in slow drops onto the already red sand. Part of him wondered if it was his nose or his mouth bleeding, they both throbbed. A pair of off-white boots entered his vision. The world seemed to be going at half-speed, Poe attempted to follow the legs up to see who the boots belonged to, but he only got as high as the thighs before getting distracted. Whoever owned these boots had taken off the armor that covered his legs. 

The feet inched closer, kicking up plumes of sand. The crotch now right in his face, Poe could no longer ignore it. He scrambled back as far as he could before being stopped by the speeder bike at his back. His heart was beating like mad; he finally looked up at the face looming over him. Squad Leader had taken his helmet off. In Poe’s hazy recollection, with only the firelight, the face was dark, ill-defined, and it filled Poe with dread. The cuff on his wrist held tight as he attempted to pull free in his growing panic. 

He wouldn’t look down, he kept his eyes trained on the blackness where the trooper’s face should be. He was attempting to glare, but worried that there was no hiding his abject fear from reflecting in his eyes. He didn’t want to know what the hands were doing in the pants in front of his face. It was difficult now for Poe to remember a time when he wasn’t well accustomed to sexual assault, but back on Tatooine his mind panicked, denied, and then went blank.

“Listen to me,” Squad Leader pushed his hardening cock in Poe’s face. “You are not the one in charge here.” Poe tried to turn his head away, but his face was grabbed. He gasped in pain as his swollen face was squeezed. “No you don’t,” the stormtrooper chided, “I’m going to teach you your lesson, and then, you’re going to lead us to Mos Eisley so we can get on a ship and hand you over to the Emperor.” He released Poe’s face and grabbed his own cock, stroking it a few times. 

“I’d rather die,” Poe meant it too. If they wanted him alive, then maybe Poe didn’t want to be alive. He recalled General Organa once calling him a contrarian during an argument. She had said it angrily, but Poe caught the hint of a smile afterward. 

The head of the penis was pushed into his mouth as he finished speaking. Poe desperately did not want it. You twisted and turned his head, pushed with his tongue and grappled with his free arm. Squad leader’s arms clutched and pulled at him, trying to force compliance. The blood from Poe’s face smeared all over both of them. In his struggle, teeth scraped along the trooper’s cock. 

Immediately, the squad leader’s fist came down again and again. While trying to shield his face with his arms, Poe lost count. When he was done, Poe was sure that his nose was now certainly broken. The man was breathing heavily, his towering form remained tensed and ready to continue its attack. 

“That’s too far!” one of the other troopers said from far away, “We don’t have much bacta left. If we bring him in like this, the Emperor will have us all reprogrammed, or worse!” In his shock, Poe had forgotten that there were three other stormtroopers watching this happen and not stopping it. If he could have felt something other than pain and fear, he might have felt humiliated or angry. With an aggrieved sigh, Squad Leader lifted Poe to his feet and steadied him as he stumbled.

“Fine, I’ll teach you this lesson another way.” He turned Poe towards the speeder bike and pushed him down across the seat. Because his right wrist was still attached to the front end of the bike, Poe was forced awkwardly on top of his own arm. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but Poe didn’t have time to worry about his arm or the cuff that was starting to cut into his skin. Squad Leader was fumbling with Poe’s pants. He tried to kick back at his assailant but the pressure it put on his arm sent pain down his shoulder. 

Poe’s pants were yanked down. He started shouting, completely finished with trying to act calm and collected. The desert, his rapist, and the other stormtroopers did not care. Squad Leader spread him open and spit. Surrounded by the absolute darkness of the desert, broken only by a small ring of orange cast by the fire, Poe felt like nothing else might exist. He stared at their own long shadows as the trooper pushed into him. Poe screamed and attempted to push himself up, his feet lost traction on the sand and his slick hand slipped off the bike seat. His whole weight slammed into his captured arm as he was thrust forward. 

Profanity, pleading and threats fell from Poe’s lips and were swallowed by the darkness. Discreet words turned to stings of nonsense, and Poe started to sob. Squad Leader squeezed his hips painfully and pushed into him over and over. It was a mercifully short time before the stormtrooper collapsed on top of him. The hard carapace that protected the soft body inside was cold and jutted uncomfortably into Poe’s back. The stormtrooper stood up and as his cock pulled out of him, Poe winced. The trooper tucked himself back in and settled into the sand by the fire. Everything was eerily quiet, save the crackling fire and Poe’s whimpering. 

His arm hurt (well, everything hurt), but he didn’t think he could get his weight off of it gracefully. When he realized that they all must have been sitting there watching him, it suddenly became very important for Poe to reclaim his dignity. Tentatively, he tried to take his unchained hand from its position keeping his weight off his other arm. It hurt but was bearable. His pants had been left around his thighs and he groped for them. He struggled to find a decent grip at his awkward angle.

Footsteps approached and Poe tensed,  _ not again, not again _ . It hurt so much, he couldn’t go through that again. He meant to beg, but when he opened his mouth only a yowl escaped. Someone pulled Poe’s pants up and over his exposed ass.

“Do you want some help getting down?” a voice not being filtered through a helmet asked. Poe may have nodded. Ungloved hands carefully lifted him, and he screamed in pain. He flinched and gritted his teeth as he painfully moved towards the ground. The hands decided that his side was the best position, and he didn’t fight them. Arranged the correct way now, he could lay flat without his arm stopping him. He curled against the speeder bike with his knees to his chest, his back to the fire and his chained arm hanging above him. 

“You are out of your mind,” the voice was calm but firm.

“You people just don’t know how to blow off steam,” Squad Leader replied. “Besides, now we know for sure that he’ll get us out of this damn desert.” Poe drifted in and out of an unpleasant sleep after that. His mouth was unbearably dry, and he shook uncontrollably, making the chain on his wrist jingle ceaselessly.

A kick to his back woke him while it was still not yet light. 

“Hey, its time,” another kick, “Come on, scum!’” Squad Leader barked through his helmet. Poe rolled to his back. Where the man had penetrated him burned, and he’d lost feeling in his chained arm. He blinked past the helmeted trooper and sure enough, there were the stars, looking down on him. He knew just which direction to head in. But he decided he wanted to just lay there; getting up, riding a speeder bike, saving these assholes, it didn’t seem worth the effort. 

“If another storm comes, we don’t have enough water to wait it out,” another helmet said as it floated into Poe’s view. “If we don’t get moving, we are all going to die out here.”

For some reason, this struck Poe as the funniest thing he had ever heard. He laughed until he was crying. The laughter poured from him the way the tears had earlier. He continued to laugh as Squad Leader dragged him to his feet. Only the humor of it all kept him on his feet as his cuff was freed from the front of the bike and reattached to his wrist. Poe could hardly be bothered to notice that a length of rope had been attached to his cuff and the bike of the speeder bike. Until, that is, Squad Leader jumped into his seat and the speeder bike began to hover. 

“He’ll take us there one way or another.”

The speeder bike started slowly at first. Poe struggled to keep up, the ropes pulling on his arm sent pain through his injured shoulder and numb arm. His ass stung as he tried to lengthen his stride. 

“If you’d rather get on, you can point me in a direction,” the trooper yelled over his shoulder. He sped up. Poe’s feet began to slip on the sand, he stumbled forward as his arms were pulled forward. He couldn’t quite seem to get his feet under him; he imagined the sand would burn his flesh as his feet continued to struggle to find purchase on the tractionless dunes.

Eventually, in the creeping dawn light, Poe slipped. 

The details of this particular suffering were vague in Poe’s mind. The pull of the rope, the grit of the sand, how he tried and failed to yank himself up by his wrists, all a blur. He remembered when the dragging finally stopped, he looked down at his stomach and thought all his skin had been rubbed away. It was a mess of sand and flesh and blood wrapped in the tattered remains of his shirt.

“Are you ready to cooperate?” Squad Leader asked as he turned Poe onto his back with his foot. He’d gotten his blaster out. Whatever it was that had tickled Poe before, hit him again. He smiled.

“I'm going to let you die out here,” Poe laughed. 

“Then you’ll die too, you idiot!” he aimed the blaster at Poe. It didn’t matter. Poe already wished he was dead. His existence was pain. Rose was dead. The Resistance was all but destroyed. He’d been raped. 

The twin suns began to rise. Poe closed his eyes. A blast rang out.

For a long moment, Poe thought he had died. He waited for his pain to subside, for everything to fade into nothing. When he could still feel the agony that was his entire body, Poe opened his eyes. He recognized the sounds of more speeder bikes approaching and realized Squad Leader had fallen beside him in the sand, shot dead. Had he been rescued?

“I need you to save these people by telling me which direction to go,” the stormtrooper who had helped lie down told him as she kneeled beside him. “I can’t promise to let you go, but I swear I won’t let anything else happen to you while you are in my custody.” She was trying to appeal to his empathy, but it was too late. Poe had already decided to kill them all. He couldn’t keep going. 

“Poe?”

Hearing his own name rattled him. The stormtrooper cut the rope that attached him to the bike and then took off her helmet. Poe saw her clearly for the first time. Her skin was as beautiful and dark as Finn’s. Poe’s heart yearned to see Finn’s face. Suddenly, he didn’t want to die. 

Poe wanted to keep existing in a universe where Finn existed.

He’d given in, hadn’t he? Both on Tatooine and with Kylo. Hux was right, he let the Emperor do whatever he wanted. He told himself that it was pointless to fight, the Emperor was so powerful, Poe so impotent, but maybe that was just an excuse. All of Poe’s efforts suddenly seemed substandard. Breathing hard, Poe’s body felt like it was back there, like he needed to be ready to survive at any cost. He could almost feel the way his arm throbbed, the way his stomach and chest burned, and worst of all, how his ass stung. If he had known what was waiting for him, if he’d known that Kylo had declared himself Emperor and was waiting for him, Poe thought he’d probably let them all die of exposure in that desert. 

The sleeping redhead stirred, and Poe found that he was very angry at him. Poe was very angry at everything. Instead of crying, now he wanted to scream. He wanted to rip away the blood stained sheets and punch holes in the wall. Poe wanted to be in control of his body and his life again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, in my universe Princess Leia gets to swear.


	4. Maybe These Emotions are as Near to Love as Love Will Ever Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hux can't seem to stop making confessions, and it's Poe's turn to make emotional, irrational decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: There is a brief discussion of child sexual abuse in this chapter. It's not graphic, but be aware.

As he drifted closer to conscience, some part of Hux prepared for pain that would surely meet him in the waking world. He blinked his eyes at the too bright lights several times. He was still laying on his stomach in his own bed, but the agony that should have greeted him wasn’t there. The low level of pain was actually so relieving that he sighed contentedly. Some days, being alive was the only victory he could declare, so being safe and warm in his own bed was almost too good to be true. But when he realized Dameron was no longer next to him, his joy turned to sudden fear. Had the Emperor taken him anyway, after all that? He pushed up onto his elbows and scanned the room as his stomach turned in knots.

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to find Dameron in the small quarters. Relief flooded over him when he spotted Dameron sitting against the wall with a more dour expression than usual. Hux tried smiling at him, but it felt unnatural. The pilot glared back indignantly. Never had he wanted to comfort someone so badly.

“I’m sorry,” Hux had wanted to say it the whole time the Emperor had been there. 

“For what?” Dameron’s glower turned skeptical.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him from doing that to you,” Hux answered honestly. 

Dameron snorted in laughter, “Which time?” 

Dameron finally looked away. Hux wasn’t sure how to respond. His mind swirled with memories of all the times he’d watched the Emperor take Dameron and done nothing. He wasn’t proud of it now, but at first, Hux had been downright glad whenever the Emperor chose Poe. It meant that it wasn’t him being abused. 

They’d started their tenure as concubines separately. Hux had been kidnapped from his ship at the very beginning of the coup and locked up in a small private villa he later learned belonged to the newly declared Emperor. His room there had been grand, nothing like the plain surroundings he currently occupied. But Hux loathed that room. It was there that he first had to chafe against his new lack of freedom and authority. Every time the Emperor had entered, something new and terrible had happened to him. Followed by prolonged stretches of never seeing another living being, where Hux had thought he might lose his mind completely. It had been a relief when he was brought aboard the Emperor’s ship, even if his new roommate was Resistance scum. At least he sometimes took the brunt of Kylo’s affections, at least he had a face and let Hux know he existed. 

“I’m sorry for every time,” Hux needed to believe that his humanity had grown, and that this was true.

“I don’t need you to apologize for what that man does. I’m not some damsel in need of defending, and he wasn’t even…” Dameron trailed off and took a deep breath. “He wasn’t even the first one to do it.” He pushed the words out forcefully and bit his lip. Hux wanted very much to get up and console the other concubine physically. Pushing through his discomfort, he turned over in preparation to sit up, careful not to wrap his legs up in his sheet. The skin on his back had the familiar feel of being freshly regenerated. It was slightly raw and felt too tight. 

Dameron pushed on, “So if you’d like to feel guilty about something, pick one of your many other failings.”

“He wasn’t the first man to rape me either,” Hux didn’t know why he’d said it. He hadn’t told another living soul since he’d tried telling his father. Sitting up wasn’t half as terrible as he’d expected. He raised his knees and leaned forward onto them to avoid pushing his healing back against the headboard.

“Are you trying to get me to feel sorry for you now?” Dameron asked bitterly. Hux frowned. Maybe that was the reason he told him. It might be nice for someone to feel sorry for him for once. But Hux was wounded, he’d opened up to Dameron and been accused of manipulation.

“No, you already feel sorry for me,” it was so difficult to stop arguing with Dameron. “After all, you stopped him when he had his blasted cock in my mouth.”

“I’m not like you,” Dameron said, “I can’t push a button knowing that light years away millions of people will die! And I can’t sit back and watch Kylo Ren kill a man in front of my face!” They’d argued many times before, but Hux had never seen Dameron so angry. “Even if he happens to be killing someone I hate,” Dameron wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“You’ve never killed anyone? You’ve never pushed a button in your cockpit knowing that someone, no matter how far away, will die? You’ve never been prepared to kill and to die for The Resistance?” 

This isn’t what Hux wanted to be doing. He wanted Dameron to climb back into the bed so he could hold him. He lowered his volume, “I know you. I know we both believe in doing what needs to be done for the greater good.”

At that, Dameron stood, hands clenched by his side. He growled, “I’m nothing like you and you don’t know  _ anything _ about me.” Hux sat straight up and ignored the tender skin stretching on his back.

“I know so much about you,” Hux did his best not to sound combative anymore. “I know that you grit your teeth in your sleep. I know that you wrinkle your brow when you are thinking.” Dameron looked utterly confused and momentarily disarmed. “I know you are loyal and stubborn to a fault. And I know you won’t be broken without a fight.”

“That isn’t what you told Kylo earlier,” Dameron’s voice was quieter, his face still confused. Hux felt devastated when he recalled the things he spouted in his panic. 

“I didn’t mean that,” he could feel that he was starting to blush again. “I had to tell the Emperor something because he knows,” Hux finally understood. “Oh god, he knows.”

“He knows what?” Dameron asked, some of his curls had fallen in front of his eyes.

“He knows,” Hux couldn’t bring himself to say it, “He knows that I love you.” 

Uttering it out loud was as painful as it was relieving. The former general knew his face was completely flushed now. He had to look away, staring instead at his knees as he gripped them nervously. He was suddenly very aware that he was naked save for his thin, blood-stained sheet.

The room was oppressively quiet. Hux looked up, he needed some sort of response. Dameron had come closer, right to the edge of the bed.

“You don’t love me,” Dameron’s voice was shaking, “I don’t think you even know how.”

“I do, I’m sure of it,” Hux reached a hand towards him, “Poe Dameron, I love you.” 

The first punch struck him on the chin and took him so off guard that it sent him flying backwards onto his pillow. His new skin was still tender enough to cause a gasp of pain. The Resistance pilot snarled and jumped on top of him. With Dameron’s legs straddling him, Hux was pinned under the sheet. Several blows came down on Hux’s face. When he finally had time to process what was happening, he guarded his face with one arm and grabbed at one of Dameron’s wrist with his other. His large hand easily stopped more hits. The smaller man instinctually stopped his attack and attempted to pull his arm free, giving Hux time to grab his other wrist. 

“What in the world do you think you’re doing!?” Hux barely got the words out as Dameron struggled to free himself.

“What I should have done when you first walked into this room!” Dameron shouted as he brought his forehead careening towards Hux’s nose. A white flash bloomed across Hux’s vision as he was struck. He wasn’t immediately sure if his nose was broken, but had no time to check. Hux bucked the wild pilot off of him while still gripping his wrists. It was almost elegant the way he flipped Dameron to his back and pinned his wrists to the bed. He straddled the pilot to control his kicking legs. The bedding was now a mess caught between them.

“You’re a mass-murdering asshole,” Dameron spat as he struggled. An arm briefly broke free before Hux grabbed it and squeezed both wrists harder in his hands. Hux looked down at the growling man under him. He was really no match for Hux considering how much smaller he was. With his cheeks red, his hair tousled and his resolve etched on every feature, he was absolutely breathtaking. Hux leaned down, experimentally, slowly. Dameron was still spouting profanity, but as Hux’s face approached his, he quieted suddenly, and then his thrashing slowed until he was absolutely frozen. 

“Please don’t,” Dameron said a fraction of second too late for Hux to stop. It was too late. Hux had his lips on Dameron’s and it felt so good. Hux didn’t even mind the pain from his swollen lip. He opened his mouth, hoping Dameron might do the same. Dameron’s lips parted slightly, but he remained otherwise like stone as Hux pushed his tongue into his mouth. The former general moaned; Dameron’s mouth was so warm. When Hux finally pulled back and looked down, he discovered to his horror that the man under him had tears in his eyes as he stared blankly at the ceiling. What was Hux doing? He let go of Poe’s wrists and sat back. Dameron’s arms remained where they had been pinned, motionless now, red marks appearing where Hux’s hands had been. Hux wasn’t sure what to do. The bridge of his nose pounded. He stared at Dameron’s face until the man finally seemed to notice him. 

“You’re not like me, you’re just like him. If you had become the Supreme Leader of the First Order, you’d be doing things just as awful as Ren is doing. Maybe worse,” Dameron’s voice was monotone. There was no accusation to his words, he was just stating facts. “If this is all I am anymore, if this is all I’m good for, then I may as well try to enjoy it,” at that Dameron lifted up and pushed his mouth back to Hux’s. The former general wanted to pull back, really he did, but the way Dameron’s mouth was inviting him to explore it was too much. 

Hips began to grind up against him. Even though the friction of Dameron’s pants was slightly painful against Hux’s bare skin, he didn’t want it to stop. Arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down again without breaking the kiss. Fingers moved through his red hair, pulling at it slightly too hard to be comfortable. Dameron broke the kiss by turning his head to the side and guided Hux’s head to his neck. The former general couldn’t resist, he nibbled and kissed and sucked. The little noises it elicited from Dameron sent chills right to his gut. Hux began to explore lower, making a trail down to his clavicle. Without warning, he pushed Hux away and looked him directly in the eye. 

“I will let you fuck me,” Dameron said deliberately, “but I need to be on top.” Hux wanted Dameron to stop talking and start making those little noises again, so he tried to lean down towards the other side of his neck. A palm against his throbbing face stopped him, “I need to be on top. Do you understand, General Hux?” If Hux had been paying closer attention, he may have noticed that Dameron’s voice was wavering not in passion, but in fear. But any part of his brain that could recognize that chose to ignore it. 

In response, Hux wrapped his legs around Dameron’s and rolled them over so that the smaller man was on top of him. Hux was hard already, and any movement of Dameron’s sent pangs of pleasure through him. It seemed unfair that Dameron was still in so many clothes, so Hux began to lift off his shirt. He had seen the other concubine naked so many times, but the lithe shape looked so much more enticing when it was so close to being his. He reached out and felt Dameron’s soft skin that hid the hard muscles of his stomach, but after Dameron finished removing his shirt, he swatted Hux’s away. 

Dameron slid off the end of the bed and took off his pants without fanfare; he then pulled away the sheet that had been hindering them. As he crawled back on top of Hux, making sure his legs were on either side of Hux’s thighs. Breathless now, Hux almost couldn’t comprehend how beautiful Dameron looked. He wanted to touch all of the body before him, the smooth thighs, the jutting hip bones, the trail of hair that led from his navel to Dameron’s still soft penis. Hux had what Kylo Ren burned with desire for. He’d seen it, the difference between how the Emperor looked at Hux compared to how he looked at Dameron. He’d always suspected it, but when Hux had heard Dameron’s description of Kylo’s action when Organa had died, he was sure of it. The Emperor’s feelings for Poe Dameron went far beyond pure lust. 

Gripping the sheets was the only way Hux could keep his hands off of Dameron, whose chest raised and fell in deep breaths. He seemed to be considering his next move. The pilot’s legs trembled up against the man under him. Unable to resist any longer, Hux bucked upwards, needing Dameron’s contact on his cock. Bending down, Dameron placed his hands on either side of Hux’s head. Those delicious lips were so close again, Hux needed to taste them, but as he lifted his head, Dameron inched away just out of reach. He groaned in disappointment and let his head fall back on the pillow. Dameron brought his lips so close, but moved down instead to Hux’s ear. 

“I think the Emperor left us something,” Dameron said and then bit Hux’s ear. Confused, Hux followed Poe’s eyeline when he stopped biting and turned towards the side of the bed. There, sitting near the edge of the bedside table, was the prominently placed bottle of lube Kylo had used earlier. 

Hux’s exhilaration diminished, a discomfort rose from his chest. Nothing the Emperor did was an accident, especially not in this room. He had known; the Emperor knew the concubines would be having sex. Hux’s heart hurt, his pride hurt. If his feelings for Dameron were known to Kylo, he worried that the Emperor would use those feelings to torture both of them. This was the first mindgame of the many Hux knew to expect. Still, it was working. Did he really want to be doing this if it was condoned and expected by Kylo? Suddenly, he feared that Dameron was right, and he was just like the Emperor, 

He didn’t have time to fully think things through, because Dameron took things into his own hands, grabbing the lube from the table and opening it immediately. He squirted a healthy amount onto his fingers and grabbed Hux’s hand, coating his fingers before guiding the hand to his ass. Dameron leaned forward, lips tantalizing close to Hux’s again. Hux’s fingers were maneuvered between his cheeks by Dameron’s own hand. The pilot used his own index finger to push Hux’s index finger inside of him. The slippery fingers sunk in together. At the same time, Dameron inhaled deeply, and Hux let out a pleasured moan he couldn’t keep in anymore. 

Dameron manipulated Hux’s finger inside of himself until he was also moaning. Finally, Hux could feel that Dameron’s cock was also hard. He took this as permission to take his free hand and reach behind Dameron and knead and pull at his firm ass, stretching his hole open more so their fingers could slip further in. It was a rush of pleasure and relief when Poe finally let Hux’s lips meet his. Involuntarily, Hux’s hips began grinding upwards, looking for friction. When their cocks met, a mewling noise unlike anything Hux had ever made left his mouth. He needed to be inside Dameron now. 

“Please,” it had been years since Hux had pleaded so shamelessly, “Dameron, I can’t wait.” As he begged, Hux slipped another finger inside of Dameron and was pleased when the man leaned his head back and cried out. Dameron finally removed his guiding hand to brace himself against the bed. Pushing back against Hux’s fingers over and over, Dameron began gasping and whimpering. Hux stroked inside of him, spreading his fingers just a little, and enjoyed the noises that came from Dameron. The movement of the smaller man back and forth on his fingers rubbed Dameron’s erection against his own. The speed of the thrusts reached a fevered pitch, and Dameron came on to Hux’s stomach. The former general felt Poe clench around his fingers until his orgasm subsided. 

Dameron didn’t take time to rest. He pulled the fingers from his hole and grabbed Hux’s cock, stroking just a few times before positioning himself over it. Everything had been happening so fast, but as Poe lowered himself onto Hux’s pulsating cock, time seemed to move too slow. The heat that surrounded him, the tightness, and the look on Dameron’s face, biting his lip, were almost too much sensation to process.

Continuing unabated, Dameron lifted himself up and down Hux’s length. Hux grabbed at his beautiful thighs and watched him, mesmerized as his fellow concubine rode him. It didn’t take long before Hux also came. He shuddered and bucked and muttered to himself under his breath. 

Quickly, Dameron lifted himself free of Hux’s cock and fell next to him in bed. He turned his back to the general and brought his hands to his face and knees to his chest. The waning ecstasy started to give way to something like guilt. He’d said he’d allow it right? He hadn’t done anything that Dameron hadn’t let him. Still, the cold, almost calculated way Dameron had gone about everything, and his silent distance now weighed down Hux’s joy. He opened his mouth in an attempt to ease his growing concern, but words eluded him.

A chime broke the silence and sent Hux searching for some scrap of clothing. It wasn’t as if any of the usual guards hadn’t already caught glimpses -or more- of the former general in all manner of undress, but Hux still attempted to defend his modesty when he could manage. Hux had just managed to wipe most of Dameron’s come off of his stomach and slip on some boxers when a droid entered with a tray of food and a clean set of sheets for the bed. It was rare that the Emperor sent an actual being to their quarters, he must have felt like a droid was less likely to aid in an escape or accidentally let slide some intelligence. Or maybe he just didn’t like the idea of organic eyes raking over his property. 

By the time Hux had taken the tray of food and turned back towards the bed, Dameron was gone. The familiar sound of the sonic shower started in the fresher. It was just as well, the droid needed time to remove the blood-stained sheets and replace them. Hux hadn’t realized just how much blood there had really been, but he didn’t really want to think about. 

It must be near shift-change, when their evening meal was usually provided. They had no real surface on which to eat in their small quarters. So the concubines had taken to eating in the bed together. Initially, eating where he was expected to sleep had seemed nearly obscene to Hux. It was not only against regulations, but Hux could not abide crumbs in his bed. Dameron had snorted the first time Hux protested about it.

“You do know that Kylo has come on this bed before, right?” Dameron had said with a mouthful of food. Hux had nearly spit out what had been in his mouth. But Dameron had a point, there are worse things that could be in his bed. 

After the blasted droid took its time making sure the bed was perfectly made while he stood there holding the tray awkwardly, Hux laid the meager meals out on the bed. He’d always had a reputation for being conceited. Aboard the Finalizer, he knew there were rumors that he demanded grand meals and ate them at a long table hidden somewhere in the bowels of the ship. It wasn’t worth squashing this bit of gossip, in fact, he sort of reveled in them. It wasn’t just his rank, but his name that gave him a haughty image. For once, even when eating alone at his small desk, he could pretend that he truly had the renown his name demanded. He could feel like his name really belonged to him. Truthfully, the paltry rations offered to him now weren’t too far off from the meals Hux had grown used to his whole life. 

The polite thing to do, would be to wait for his roommate before starting to eat. This would have been an easier feat if he was not starving. They’d missed their morning meal due to the Emperor’s presence, and then regenerating wounds always seemed to make him voracious. But a meal seemed like the perfect opportunity to speak to Dameron about the day’s events. Eating had always been a time when they sat close and sometimes even conversed. To distract himself from his hunger, Hux dressed. Early on in his captivity, he’d felt nearly naked out of uniform. Considering some of the outfits he’d been forced to wear by Kylo, the black slacks and tank top he put on were nearly formal. 

Maybe he was imagining it, but Dameron seemed to take longer in the shower than he ordinarily would have. At last, he emerged dressed and walked silently to the bed. Dameron slowly sank down on his side of the mattress with his back to Hux. When he didn’t turn to eat, it became clearer to Hux that he had crossed a line with the other concubine. How was it that something that had felt so good and so right had been the wrong thing to do? Small talk seemed useless, and apologizing had only made Dameron angry earlier. Hux struggled to think of what to say. 

“It was the headmaster at the First Order Academy,” Hux said finally. Dameron made no sign that he had heard. “The man who first raped me.” At that, Dameron looked over his shoulder, but stayed silent. 

“He hated my father, and he hated my name, and he hated me. It started when I was very little,” Hux paused and took a deep breath. “I endured it for years because that is what one does. One endures. The only thing that mattered was restoring order to the galaxy. One little boy’s pain may as well be nothing.

“Once, after the headmaster had me flogged me for no reason, I attempted to tell my father what he was doing to me behind closed doors. The Commandant told me that in the course of correcting the wrongs of the universe, some innocent people would need to get hurt,” Hux could almost see his father’s face as he said this to him. “But he also told me that most people who consider themselves innocent usually aren't. My father had made every effort to not know me, but he told me that I had probably done something to deserve what had happened. And the worst part is that I believed him. I believed that I deserved what the headmaster did to me, and I believed that innocent people would need to suffer for order to be restored.”

He’d always told himself that if he’d suffered and endured, then so too could the galaxy. That old men in uniforms truly knew best, and that everyone else needed to listen or to suffer. In his rush to stop being the one forced to suffer, Hux had stepped on every single living being below him. He’d done it gratefully and with relish. He’d done everything in his power to avoid being the little boy called to the headmaster office ever again, trembling and waiting to be fucked. 

Dameron stared but still did not speak. “I killed him,” Hux continued, for reasons he didn’t quite understand yet. “I killed them both, actually.” 

After that, he was done. Hux had said far too much already. His only friend in the world turned his back to him again and looked squarely at the blank wall. Since he’d found himself in Kylo’s possession, caught in the same loop of his childhood, he’d been thinking about those formative events more than he’d like. They’d been at the front of his mind and the tip of his tongue almost all the time. In retrospect, he’d been aching to tell Dameron this secret about himself. Maybe, at last, he’d found someone with enough compassion to tell Hux that he hadn’t deserved it. 

The longer the silence stretched on, the more uncomfortable Hux became.

“The man who first raped me is dead too,” Dameron broke his quiet in a small sad voice, “I didn’t do it, but I’m glad he’s dead.” At last, he turned and looked directly at Hux. “Someday, Kylo Ren will be dead, and I’ll be glad.” Their eyes met, “Someday, you’ll be dead too. And I’ll be glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the most explicit thing I've ever written.


End file.
